


Harry Potter and the Second Tournament

by milesss, orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Depression, Drarry, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Post-Canon, Triwizard Tournament
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 19:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5468627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milesss/pseuds/milesss, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry decides to go back to Hogwarts for one last year, but everything gets turned around. The Triwizard Tournament is happening again this year, and  he ends up falling for the only person he'll never have a chance with.<br/>With the help of his new teacher, Professor Smith, Harry's year becomes a train wreck.</p><p> </p><p>THIS IS ON PERMENANT HIATUS - I'M SORRY</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Burrow

Harry’s eighth year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry was coming around. Hermione had convinced him to attend after months of persistence via owl, but Harry was terrified just the same. Going back to Hogwarts meant stepping over the place where Fred had died. It meant re-living countless other deaths.

It was all his fault.

Harry closed his eyes and imagined his life before the war. _Happy memories_ , he commanded his thoughts, warding off the now ever-present dementors.

He didn’t know what had helped him more in the past months: Having his mind pre-occupied with repairing the Burrow, or Molly Weasley herself, who was suffering as much as Harry ever had, and yet still took care of her children (although they were now all of age), still held her head high, and still bustled about the kitchen. You could even find her having heart-to-hearts with the Weasley’s new house elf, Malorie. Every so often Harry would catch her muttering over the dishes about “what Fred and George are going to get into next”, and he always tiptoed away before she realized what she’d said.

***

Harry was thinking about Hogwarts when Ron came into the room on August thirty-first. Harry had not yet even got out of bed when Ron sprinted into the room.

“Ron!” He exclaimed, surprised, he hadn’t seen Ron or Hermione all summer; they had been looking for Hermione’s parents, and had found them, very confused, in Australia. “I thought you might not make it in time for the train ride tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry mate,” Ron said. “Come on then, we have to tell you something.” He left the room, bounding down the stairs. Harry followed as quickly as he could, skipping the last few steps and jumping into the kitchen.

“Harry!” It was Hermione, her bushy brown hair flew behind her as she ran as fast as she could around the table to pull Harry into a warm hug. “We have to tell you something.”

“I know, Ron here has got me curious already. The suspense is killing me. What is it?” Molly gave a little squeal and a clap of excitement from where she was, leaning against the fridge.

“Well,” said Hermione, biting her lip, “me and Ronald are getting married.”

Harry was in a state of utter shock. He hadn’t been happy all summer, but now his _friends_ were here. They were with him and they had just given him good news, but he felt even more alone than before.

“Bloody hell Harry, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Ron said, still smiling, his arm now around Hermione’s shoulder. Harry smiled, the wave of selfishness gone.

“Well that’s exciting!” He said, a real smile on his face.

“Exciting?” Ron said, “Exciting? I’m ecstatic! I’ve never been happier!” Ron looked as though he could jump around the room in excitement.

“Alright everyone!” Mrs. Weasley announced. “It’s time for breakfast, everyone can catch up while we eat.”

No one did catch up while they ate; they stuffed themselves until they couldn’t possibly eat any more, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione ran up to the room where Harry had been sleeping. The room was actually Ron’s room, but Harry had been living there for quite some time and he thought of it as half his own.

“So,” Hermione said as they all sat down on the floor. “This is a weird topic, but I need to talk about it. Does anyone else have dreams?”

Harry and Ron both nodded, looking away. This most definitely _was_ a weird topic; both Harry and Ron kept their dreams to themselves.

“Well,” Hermione went on, “I have a lot. There are certain recurring ones which haunt me almost every night and I need to talk about them.”

The boys nodded, “We’ll listen,” said Harry, and Ron agreed.

“Alright then, I may as well get on with it. Right.” She took a deep breath. “Almost every night I dream of Bellatrix carving that _awful_ word into my arm.” She touched her forearm where the knife had sliced through her smooth skin, leaving permanent scars. “Sometimes it’s different though. Sometimes she carves ‘failure’ or sometimes she just tears at my veins with her fingernails.” Hermione, usually so calm and collected and intellectual, spat the name out. Bellatrix, they knew, would forever haunt her.

“I dream about Fred,” said Ron in a dull voice, after a moment of silence. The other two nodded in agreement. Fred had been Ron’s brother, a master trickster, and a twin. When Fred was killed, his twin brother George didn’t know what to do, and neither did most of the Weasley family. So used to the twin’s pranks, the sudden lack of joy, laughter, and Mrs. Weasley scolding the two brothers for some prank or another was frightening.

“I see Sirius,” Harry said, still thinking about the twins. “And Lupin, and Tonks, and everyone else who died because of me.”

“Oh Harry,” Hermione said, putting a hand on his knee. “You can’t possibly still think it was all your fault.”

“Oh can’t I?” Harry retorted, slightly annoyed; why couldn’t she understand? “Because that’s exactly how I feel.”

“Bloody hell Harry! You saved the whole wizarding world and you’re acting like you’ve killed it!” Ron exclaimed. God he could be so _ignorant_ sometimes.

“Nevermind. Just forget it.” He waved it off, desperate to move on to the next topic of conversation. “What did you two do over the summer?”

“Well,” said Hermione, taking a deep breath and slouching over slightly. “I got in contact with Professor McGonagall, and she said she would help me find my parents. I traveled out to the school to visit. We would work on finding them at night, and in the day we were helping repair Hogwarts; you know all about that, of course.”

“No, actually, I don’t. How’s it going?” Harry asked.

“Oh it’s all very well, everything’s back to new. There are a couple of portraits I think you might want to meet,” Hermione replied with a small smile.

“Anyway,” Ron interrupted, “Mione has exciting news.”

“Yes!” Hermione seemed to remember what she was going to say, though Harry doubted she ever forgot anything, seeing as she could practically recite _Hogwarts: A History_. “Professor McGonagall is training me to become an animagus.” Harry was not surprised. Hermione had always been the top of the class in _everything_ , and had been able to perform spells without a wand by the age of fifteen. Harry, in fact, could not be less surprised by this news.

“That’s amazing,” Harry said truthfully; he had always wanted to become an animagus, but had never pursued the skill. “Do you reckon you could teach us once you can control it?” He asked, hoping his secret prayers would be answered.

“Oh definitely,” She said with a small giggle. “It’s hard, though. You have to make real effort. You have to want it.” Harry was confident that he did, and for the first time since before the battle, he was happy. He was with his friends, and he was in the place he belonged.

“So what’s your animagi?” Harry asked, curious.

“Oh that’s the best part! I’m a cat. I’m afraid to say I do look a bit like Crookshanks though. Being a cat will be so useful. Imagine being a tiger or something like that, how inconvenient.” She laughed.

“I’m not surprised you look like Crookshanks. It’s the hair, don’t you think?” Ron joked, receiving a shove from Hermione, who was laughing more still. Even Harry was laughing. He wasn’t sure what was so funny, but it felt good to laugh again.

They stayed in Ron’s room all day, talking and reminiscing about past adventures. They did not talk about the events in The Ministry of Magic during their fifth year, or about the Triwizard Tournament in their fourth. They talked about the happy golden years. Those first three years had been the best of all their lives. If they could agree on one thing, that was it.

***

At dinner Molly was unusually quiet, a smile on her face the whole time, but not a word escaping her lips. She acted like she had a secret, and when asked questions she answered in one or two words. Harry and Hermione made polite conversation with Arthur Weasley, who had gotten home while they were talking in Ron’s room.

Arthur had not yet gotten over his obsession with Muggle artifacts and questioned Hermione about her parent’s dental practices. Most questions she didn’t know the answer to, but she gave good answers when she could. Hermione, Harry could tell, was being especially polite, and he guessed that Arthur had not yet been briefed about the marriage. This thought was for some reason funny, and he ended up choking on his mashed potatoes.

“Are you alright dear?” Asked Molly, who looked concerned.

“I’m-” He coughed. “I’m fine,” He finished, taking a sip of water. “So Hermione.” He said, looking at her, “Do you have anything to tell Arthur?”

“Oh.” Hermione blushed, looking down at her food. “Well, me and Ronald…” She began. “I mean, Ron and I, we thought-”

“We’re getting married Dad.” Ron interrupted, shoving a forkful of food into his mouth as soon as he had spoken.

“Oh how exciting,” said Mr. Weasley distantly, he was gazing out the open window.

“Arthur!” Mrs. Weasley whispered in an irritated voice, elbowing her husband and giving him a ‘look’.

“Oh!” Arthur seemed to break out of his trance. “Goodness! When?”

“As soon as we finish school,” Hermione replied, smiling. Harry found himself smiling too; he was happy for his friends, more so than he had realized.

“Ah. Well! Congratulations! I’m sorry I’m so detached, my promotion at the Ministry is getting to be stressful.” Everyone of course knew about the promotion, Arthur had been moved from the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, and he had been quite the opposite of happy since. They went on eating in silence after that, an air of awkwardness in the room.

***

A while later, Harry was helping Mrs. Weasley with the dishes. Ron and Hermione had left to help the Weasley’s new house elf de-gnome the garden, and had left Harry behind. He had decided to stay and help Mrs. Weasley. Cleaning in the Burrow was really just flicking around their wands casting various household spells to make items clean themselves up. It wasn’t too unenjoyable, and Harry liked Mrs. Weasley’s company.

“Oh! Harry!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed as she finished up the dishes. “I almost forgot!”

“Forgot what?” Harry asked, confused.

“I have a gift for you. Close your eyes.” He did, trusting Mrs. Weasley as he had since he met her. “Alright, just come with me.” She grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him out of the kitchen and down the hall; when they reached their destination she spun him around a few times for good measure and told him to open his eyes. When he did, he was standing in front of the Weasley family clock, but there was an extra hand. This new hand stood out from all the others, the boy in the picture sporting jet black hair and wearing large round glasses.

The new hand was him, and it was balanced over the words ‘at home’.

A tear slipped down his cheek. After all she had done for him, after all he had taken from her, she was still nothing but kind. Molly Weasley had given Harry something he didn’t think he would ever have and he could never repay her.


	2. To Hogwarts!

They were awoken early the next morning by Mrs. Weasley, who had already cooked breakfast. It was a rather large breakfast and she had to have been up at the crack of dawn to prepare it. Molly looked unusually frazzled that morning, but Harry guessed it was because of what had happened the last time they were at Hogwarts.

Harry began listing off the people who he knew would be missing that year in his head.

 _Lavender_  
_Colin_  
_Snape_

He was interrupted by Mrs. Weasley, who had taken the opportunity to pile more eggs and bacon onto his plate. He overheard her muttering something, though he couldn’t catch exactly what, and she was smiling all through breakfast.

“You’ll be apparating, I suppose?” Molly finally asked, raising her eyebrows and taking a sip of juice.

“I thought we should, but Ronald here thinks we should take some other form of transportation,” said Hermione, giggling a little.

“How exactly do _you_ think we should get there, Ron?” asked Harry, smirking.

“Well, I mean…” Ron began, trailing off awkwardly. “I don’t know, it just feels like cheating.”

 _“I’m_ apparating,” said Hermione, clearly her final answer. “Besides, _I_ don’t have to carry a heavy trunk like Ronald over here does. I’ve got my purse to hold all my school stuff in this year.”

Harry found himself smiling at his friends’ bitterness; so many years had passed and yet nothing had changed.

“We’ll be seen if we apparate,” Ron countered with his mouth full of hash browns. “There isn’t a place in that station that isn’t full of people.”

“Yes there is,” Harry said, contributing to the conversation for the first time.

“Well, fine,” said Ron, giving up at last. “But I don’t want to carry my big trunk. Hermione, will you _please_ cast that spell on my backpack?”

“Fine," she replied, rolling her eyes with a smile. They never stayed mad at each other for long.

When they finished breakfast they all headed upstairs to quickly re-pack their trunks into smaller (and yet bigger) bags using her Undetectable Extension Charm.

They all apparated from the Burrow at a quarter-to-eleven after a lot of vigorous hugging from Mrs. Weasley and hand-shaking from Mr. Weasley.

Ginny had left a couple minutes earlier, and Harry guessed she was desperate to see who had returned. He knew there couldn’t be many people after the battle last year, but he certainly hoped to see some familiar faces. He was especially looking forward to seeing his insightful Ravenclaw friend Luna Lovegood; he hoped to ask her a few things that only she could understand.

The three friends landed a few blocks away from Kings Cross with a loud pop. They hurried to the station and discreetly passed through the barrier in between platforms 9 and 10 one at a time. By the time they were all on platform 9 ¾ the train had let out a warning whistle, five minutes before it would leave.

Hermione led the way onto the train, ignoring the lack of people and excitement. There were only about fifty people on the platform, all bustling towards the train doors; the majority, Harry realized, were parents wishing their children well on their way. Everyone must have already been on the train. He recognized a few of the students, but didn’t say hello, and only replied with a nod to those who greeted him.

When they made it onto the train they sat down in the first empty compartment they found, quite a ways along. Harry wondered if it was the only empty one left. It seemed that even after the war Hogwarts would be crowded with students, thriving as much as ever. They all settled down, setting their bags in the overhead rack silently. The silence was broken quickly, however, when none other than Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom slid the compartment door open, hand in hand.

“Hey Harry! Hermione, Ron,” Neville greeted them, grinning. “I wasn’t sure if you three were coming back.” Harry laughed,

“I didn’t really have a choice, did I?” he said, looking at Hermione. She laughed with him and gave him a friendly shove.

“I didn’t _force_ you, Harry, I encouraged you. Besides, you have to go back to Hogwarts if you want to be an Auror.” Harry knew she was right; he needed to take his N.E.W.T.s. He sat back and nodded. All he had ever wanted to do after Hogwarts was become an Auror. He hoped Professor McGonagall had been nice enough to sign him up for the Auror classes he wanted.

“Harry, do you think everyone will be able to see the Thestrals this year?” Luna asked. Her voice sounded far off, but it always sounded like that.

“I suppose so; at least, all the people who fought in the battle. Not any of the first years, hopefully.”

“Yes, I agree,” she replied, staring at something a little to the right of Harry. “Well, Neville and I are going to go find a compartment. It shouldn’t be too hard this year.” And with a small smile, she left, followed by Neville.

“They’re such a strange and yet perfect couple,” Hermione noted, standing up to get her bag down. Once she had pulled it down she pulled several books out of it - they were all very Hermione-like. They all had dusty covers with worn leather bindings which were a thread away from falling off. She handled them with the utmost care

“What are those for?” Harry asked, confused; they definitely weren’t schoolbooks, and besides, Hermione had probably found the time to memorize all of her textbooks already.

The train let out one more whistle before rolling out of the station, and soon they were whizzing by the now almost familiar farmhouses and fields.

After admiring the landscape for some time, Harry looked through the glass doors of their compartment and into the one across from them. There, sitting in the seat closest to the window, slumped over and disheveled, was Draco Malfoy.

Harry hadn’t seen Draco since the incident in the Room of Requirement, and he hadn’t expected to see him at Hogwarts this year, seeing as his father had just been sentenced to ten years in Azkaban and his mother was still hated and disgraced by the entirety of the wizarding world. Judging by the empty compartment around him he was just as hated. He reminded Harry, oddly enough, of Remus Lupin on the first day they had met him, curled up in the corner of the compartment, ragged, unknown, and an outcast.

Harry put that thought quickly out of his mind. Draco Malfoy was not Remus Lupin.

Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater; he was evil; he always would be.

Harry turned away, conversing with Hermione and Ron on simple subjects.

“What classes do you think we’ll have to take this year?” Hermione asked. “I mean, we missed a year of school, will this be our seventh year? Or our eighth?”

“You can’t take eight years at Hogwarts,” Ron said, like it was obvious.

“But you can’t learn everything there is to learn about magic in seven years, either,” Hermione retorted.

“Do you reckon they’ll be teaching all of us how to become Animagi in transfiguration?” Ron asked, changing the subject.

“Maybe there will be a special class for it,” Hermione suggested, sounding more as if she knew what she was talking about then that she was guessing. She was skimming the pages of the first large book. It was, no surprise, _Hogwarts: A History._

There was a knock on the door a few moments later.

“Anything from the trolley, dears?” the familiar, plump little witch asked.

Harry bought as many chocolate frogs as he could carry, a pumpkin pasty, and, noticing a few Weasley's Wizard Wheezes products, bought a package of four canary creams, resolving to save them for later.

He dumped the frogs on the seat next to him, gesturing to Ron that he was welcome to take some. Both Ron and Hermione grabbed a handful of the packages and started to open them.

“Harry! Look who I’ve got!” Ron said, suddenly very excited. He shoved the card in Harry’s face; it was Fred, beaming as if he had just pulled off some marvelous prank. Underneath his picture it read:

  
_Fred Weasley_  
_Most recognized for his work at the joke shop Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, he fought and died bravely in the Battle of Hogwarts in 1998. He was born a twin into the Weasley family, the fourth child in a line of seven._  


“That’s awesome,” Harry said, smiling at the card and opening one up for himself. He grabbed the little frog before it could jump out of reach and took a bite, looking at the card. He was happy to see the face of Albus Dumbledore staring back at him, looking fondly over his half-moon spectacles the same way he always had. “I got Dumbledore,” Harry said cheerfully, truly enjoying himself for the first time in a while.

“Aw, Harry, I’ve got you twice in a row,” Ron complained, looking down at another card. It had been less than five minutes and Ron had gone through almost all the frogs, not even eating them, just looking at the cards _(“Do you know how many new cards they’ve added since the battle? I’ve got to start my collection all over.”)_.

They were all enjoying themselves, perhaps pretending the events of the last few years hadn’t happened, or perhaps just forgetting. It was Harry who mentioned their past train rides, remembering the dementors, Lupin, the chocolate. Ron laughed and mentioned the first time they had met Hermione; he had tried to turn his rat yellow and she had been all but impressed.

“I was such a snob!” Hermione giggled, picking another chocolate frog.

“You still are,” Ron muttered under his breath.

“Ron!”

“Sorry,” Ron said, chuckling. Harry couldn’t help but be amused by their bickering. It had been that way since they became friends.

***

It was about an hour later, after much talking and remembering and Harry staying quiet, that they pulled into Hogsmeade station. The usual announcement was made _(“Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be transported separately.”)_ and everyone left the train, stretching their legs and adjusting their robes.

Harry could hear Hagrid ushering the first years to the boats and could see the thestrals waiting patiently for the rest of the students to get into the carriages. Most though, were paying attention to the thestrals themselves; they had never seen the strange creatures before the battle. Harry knew the question they all wanted to ask: _“Why can we see them now?”_ He didn’t want to be the one to answer.

The three friends sat in a carriage with a lonely second year who reminded Harry a bit too much of himself; his name was William and he was from London. He was a Ravenclaw, and he was a half-blood; his dad was a wizard, his mum, a muggle. William talked a lot, and very fast. Harry could hardly keep up. By the time they reached the castle, William seemed to have run out of things to say.

The grand doors of the Great Hall opened, revealing an open, empty room with a few staircases leading in different directions. Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed the crowd into the dining hall where the teachers all sat, waiting for them. Harry made his way over to the Gryffindor table through the mass of people, followed by Hermione and Ron.

When they found seats they waited patiently, talking quietly, until the first years arrived. Once all the small bobbing heads had made their way up to the front, Professor McGonagall dragged a stool out, front and center, on top of which sat the sorting hat.

The grimy old hat let out an “ehem” and everyone in the hall stopped talking, gazing over at the hat, waiting for the song.

The hat readied itself and began.

 _After blood and battle,_  
_Hogwarts reigns anew,_  
_A new batch to rattle,_  
_Although there are so few._

 _You newer folk don’t know me,_  
_But please don’t be afraid,_  
_I mean no harm, really,_  
_I am here to aid._

 _Just put me on,_  
_And you will find_  
_The place that you fit best._  
_The one and only, but, please_  
_Don’t disregard the rest._

 _I’ll search around_  
_Inside your head_  
_To find where you belong._  
_Weather you’re loyal, cunning, intelligent,_  
_Logistical or strong._

 _You will find in Gryffindor,_  
_The bravest of all sorts,_  
_More courageous folk you'll never meet,_  
_And they’re the best of sports._

 _In Hufflepuff you will see_  
_The truest friends of all,_  
_These loyal souls are joyous,_  
_And there you’ll have a ball_

 _Ravenclaw is best for you,_  
_If you admire wit,_  
_These boxless thinkers will welcome you,_  
_If your mind’s ready and fit._

 _Slytherin is last of all,_  
_Your resourceful next-of-kin_  
_Are the masterminds behind it all,_  
_And most reliable in a pinch_

 _Now put me on,_  
_And you will find,_  
_Where you truly belong,_  
_Ravenclaw, Gryffindor,_  
_Hufflepuff, Slytherin_  
_Now this song is gone._

The hall burst into applause, several loud whoops came from the Gryffindor table, and Harry looked around the hall to the other tables.

The Slytherin table was unusually empty. Pansy Parkinson and several younger students were sitting scattered around the table, avoiding a cloaked figure in the corner, who Harry instantly recognized as Malfoy.

The boy sat, still slumped as he had been on the train. Harry could see his face now, just barely, if he looked over the other tables. His eyes sagged, dark circles above his hollow cheeks. Harry's first thought was that he looked almost dead. His second was that he would not be wasting his last year at Hogwarts obsessing over Malfoy again.  
Professor McGonagall unrolled her scroll.

“Smith, Jeremiah,” she called, looking over the line of first years. A short scrawny blond boy walked over to the stool, placing the hat over his eyes carefully, as though it would bite. The hat took its time, waiting a few moments before shouting out-

“Slytherin!” The boy took the hat off, looking disappointed, maybe even on the verge of tears, and walked unhappily to the Slytherin table.

“The parents must be spreading rumors about Slytherin,” Hermione muttered, looking down at her book. Harry couldn’t remember when she’d taken it out or if she’d had it the whole time.

“The kid looked like he was about to cry,” Harry said, half making fun, half empathizing.

“Yeah,” Ron said, but he quickly looked back at Professor McGonagall who was giving the three of them a glare.

“Hiller, Sophia,” Professor McGonagall announced, again looking out at the first years expectantly. A very excited girl with reddish brown hair popped out of the crowd. Saying popped was not an exaggeration, seeing as she practically jumped from the crowd in excitement.

When she reached the stool she pulled the hat eagerly over her head, awaiting the hat’s call. She furrowed her eyebrows from underneath the hat. She seemed to be telling it something.

“Hufflepuff!” The hat finally called, the girl bounced off the stool and practically ran to the Hufflepuff table, her robes fluttering behind her; you could tell they were just a little too big.

Everyone clapped. Harry noticed that this year’s first year batch was almost as small as his had been, only about forty-five kids in all, and all - except for that Hiller girl - looking very anxious.

She didn’t seem worried in the slightest; she was - though maybe awkwardly, but all the same - muttering to anyone at her table who would listen.

“Tyler, Rose,” Professor McGonagall called. The blonde girl was sorted into Ravenclaw.

“Jones, Martha.” A girl with dark skin and dark hair joined Gryffindor.

“Eller, Maxwell.” A brown haired boy was sorted into Ravenclaw.

Harry didn’t pay attention to the rest. He put his head in his hands, remembering all that had happened the last time he wandered these halls.

There were so few students this year, Professor McGonagall was quickly finished with the sorting.

“Now,” Professor McGonagall announced, looking far from happy. “This year, I am sorry to announce, is the year of the Triwizard Tournament. For those of you who don’t know, the Triwizard Tournament is a tournament held every four years, in which one witch or wizard from each of the three wizarding schools is selected to compete against each other in a series of competitions.”

Harry knew. He most definitely knew. He had competed in his fourth year. It had been the year his life fell apart for good. The year he had watched Voldemort come back to life. The year he had watched Cedric Diggory die. It couldn’t be happening again; the Ministry wouldn’t allow that.

“This year, we are breaking tradition. The tournament will be held at Hogwarts. I will not have any of my students traveling anywhere else this year. Hogwarts is still in need of a few repairs, and I do believe education is more important than a _stupid_ game. We are only accepting students seventeen or older. No exceptions. If you wish to enter, write your name on a slip of paper and give it to your head of house, who will put it in the Goblet of Fire for you. The Goblet will be kept in the Headmistress's office. Everyone old enough to enter was at Hogwarts the last time the tournament was held.” There was a whisper of excitement from everyone who hadn’t been to the last tournament.

“Now that we have the bad news out of the way, let’s get to the good news, shall we?” There was a quiet murmur of agreement from the crowd. “This is our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor John Smith.” A skinny man in a brown trench coat smiled at them. He was wearing a striped muggle suit as well, and stood out quite a lot from all the other teachers. Harry noticed that his hair stuck up quite a lot in the front, and he couldn’t tell if Professor John Smith was going to be a good teacher or not.

“Well,” Professor McGonagall said, “Let’s not wait any longer. Eat!”

The golden platters piled with food and the goblets filled with pumpkin juice. Everyone dug in, except for Harry, who was feeling quite sick all the sudden.

“You alright mate?” Ron asked, as he piled his plate with potatoes.

“Yeah. It’s just- Being here is hard, you know?” Harry said. Ron nodded.

“Hey, look who’s here.” Ron pointed at Malfoy, who wasn’t eating, but instead looking down at his plate sullenly.

“Yeah, I saw him,” Harry said.

“I can’t believe he had the nerve to come back,” Ron said, stabbing angrily at his mashed potatoes.

“I doubt he’ll be bothering us this year,” Harry said, looking again at Malfoy’s sunken face and haunted eyes. He looked as scarred as any of them; as bad as Harry, at least. Harry wondered briefly where his childhood nemesis had been over the summer, but when he remembered he quickly put it out of his mind.

Draco had been in Azkaban.

Harry thought the dementors had been banished from the wizard prison, but judging from the look on Malfoy’s face, they hadn’t.

Harry turned away from the boy, looking instead at Hermione who was digging into her food. She was ignoring them, and Harry could tell she was hiding something from him, but he didn’t pry.

The feast was long. The great hall was full of the smell of food and the chatter of people. Harry almost felt that it was as it had been before, until he looked at the teacher’s table, or peeked at the other House tables, noticing how few people were there.

Noticing specific people who weren’t there.

Harry was quite happy when Professor McGonagall announced the end of dinner, but was disappointed when she called for all the eighth year students to stay behind.

Everyone crowded around the Ravenclaw table. Professor McGonagall stood at the head of it, waiting for everyone to settle down. It only took a moment since everyone was given a glare. Professor McGonagall’s glare could probably intimidate Voldemort; it had certainly intimidated Professor Dumbledore. Harry laughed under his breath in spite of himself

“Now,” Professor McGonagall announced. “There are very few of you here to complete your studies.” She took a shaky breath. “I am not surprised, though. The things that happened last year were horrific, and will no doubt scar all of you for the rest of your lives.” She looked at each of them in turn as she spoke, making eye contact with everyone. “Because we don’t usually have eighth year students at Hogwarts, I have managed to construct a new common room and two dormitories for _all_ the eighth year students.” There were a few groans and Professor McGonagall gave the group a disapproving look. “You can still visit your old common rooms, but all the dormitories have been filled to make room for the first years.”

Everyone seemed to think this logical, because it certainly was the most logical course of action.

“But _Professor_ ,” August Moon, the lone returning Hufflepuff complained. “Do we have to share with _him_?” Moon gave Malfoy a menacing look. Malfoy just ignored him, turning away.

“Yes, Mr. Moon. You do,” said Professor McGonagall, “and five points from Hufflepuff for your bad attitude.” Moon just rolled his eyes. “Follow me.” Professor McGonagall moved quickly away from the tables and towards the large doors. Everyone rushed behind her, falling into place just behind her flowing green cloak like ducklings.

They soon arrived on the third floor. Harry and the rest of the eighth years were standing in front of the wall in a small abandoned classroom, looking around for the grand secret entrance. They had entered the classroom from a hardly noticeable hallway leading off from the main corridor. The hallway was also blocked by a door, and guarded by two sets of armor. Harry suspected this was to ward off curious students, particularly of the younger variety.

The classroom had a low ceiling, almost resembling one of the dungeons. Candles and torches were set around the room, and there were several wooden tables and chairs, but everything looked as if it had been left alone for at least a decade.

“Now.” Professor McGonagall turned to face them. “Can any of you figure out how to get to your common room?” There was a sly smile on her face; she must have done something particularly clever. 

Everyone evaluated the room. Some walked around, others just stood, watching. 

“Oh, come on,” Professor McGonagall sighed, shaking her head. She walked over to the wall farthest from the door. “You just have to do this.” She placed her hand on one of the torch brackets and pulled. 

The wall beside it opened up to reveal a dimly lit staircase, leading up farther than Harry could see. “Go on,” she urged, waving her hand at them, keeping the other on the torch bracket as to keep the door open. Everyone walked up the stairs, keeping quiet; only a few whispers could be heard over the tapping of feet on the stone steps. 

At the top of the steps there was a small circular room. It was big enough to fit the small crowd, but no doors or windows or portraits led off from this room; it was just stone. 

Harry started to feel claustrophobic, and had to turn away from the rest of the group to keep from feeling sick. Professor McGonagall was muttering something under her breath as she hurried up the stairs behind them. Everyone parted to let her through, eager to see what she would do next. 

She walked to the wall and placed her hand on it, said something that sounded like “Padfoot,” and a door was revealed. Harry doubted that she had actually said Sirius’s nickname, so he decided to ask her about it after she was done with the tour. 

“The password is Padfoot,” Professor McGonagall called out to everyone. Hermione elbowed Harry.

“I know,” Harry whispered.

Professor McGonagall pushed the door open and everyone gasped.

The room was directly above the great hall. Below their feet they could see the empty tables; it was like a wizarding photograph painted on wood; they could see the grain of the floor, and where the arches of the hall's’ ceiling curved down near-invisibly. It appeared their room had been added below the roof, as the arches continued steadily to the peak of the ceiling above.That is not to say that one could see their common room from below; it appeared a disillusionment spell had been cast on the floor that had rendered them all completely invisible. To those down below, it was as if nothing had changed. That is also not to say the ceiling was no longer enchanted to show the sky. Their floor had been added below already existing enchantments, and so they could look up and around and see out the walls and ceiling, and those in the great hall simply saw straight through the entire floor and up to the ceiling and out to the night sky. Curved, sliding birch wood panels had been placed on the sides, so one could change how open the room appeared, and an ebony baseboard that went about up to their knees covered the bottoms of the panels, along with a thinner one at the top. And that was just the architecture.

The common room was wide, with low, comfortable couches and chairs in a soft pale gold with ebony siding, beautiful ebony tables and large, soft golden pillows to match, and an enormous fireplace at each end. The floors were heated, with a few multi colored rugs here and there. Along the back wall were 3 oak doors, set into decorative bricking with uneven edging. The right was labeled GIRLS’ DORMITORIES, the left BOYS’ DORMITORIES, and the middle EXTRACURRICULAR ACTIVITY ROOMS.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. “As you can see, there is a dorm for the girls and for the boys. We are planning to have 8th year be an option for all students from now on. It will be a time to study and master a specific craft. It will also be a time to bond with people from other houses, and retake any classes you would like to attempt a higher grade in. All students who chose to attend 8th year will sleep up here.” She paused, then continued. “The extracurricular activity rooms are, firstly, game rooms. There is a room for louder, more active games, such as pool or Twister, and a room for quieter sit-down games, such as chess or Monopoly. Beyond the second room are 3 rooms with silencing charms. They were intended for quiet study but, as you are all of age, there are beds installed for your convenience.” A few people laughed, others raised their eyebrows.

Professor McGonagall gave a short speech about how parties couldn’t get too loud, and that the house elves would not appreciate a large mess, and then she left, leaving them all curious about what their new dormitories would look like.

Harry followed the others through the boys' door and found beyond: a short hallway with a spiral staircase at the end and a door labeled BATHS to the left.

While the other boys headed upstairs to explore the dormitories, Harry entered the door to the BATHS to get away from the crowd for a bit.

The door lead to a room done up in white-streaked black marble, with white tiled walls and pale gold accents. Three hexagons of mirrors and sinks stood in a row before him, and as he stepped in, he found stalls for toilets on the same wall as the door he’d come through. Shelves behind the sinks on the wall opposite the door held stacks of fresh towels, washcloths, and other basic toiletries. A bank of cubbies with names covered the furthest third of this wall. On the wall to the right of where he’d come in was another spiral staircase, which he assumed led to the dormitories. Next to it were several shower stalls, each with a curtain and changing area, and elegant wastebaskets and larger laundry hampers were scattered tastefully around the room. A row of marble pillars stood between the sinks and the center of the room, where there stood a large marble tub that extended to the back wall.

The tub had 5 faucets with knobs, like in the prefect’s bathroom. Each knob had several gems on it; pushing one, Harry discovered they were buttons, presumably for different bubbles. There was a ledge to sit on in the tub, and a towel rack along the side with the showers. There was a lever on the wall in the middle labeled “PULL TO CREATE PRIVATE BATH.” Climbing in to test it, Harry discovered it caused frosted glass walls to come up on the sides of the back end of the bath, as well as new seats on either side of the wall.

Harry walked around a bit more and found his cubby. It was already filled with a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a few washcloths. He decided to brush his teeth, and was only halfway done when the door burst open. A small pack of boys came in led by Ron, trailing Malfoy. Thankfully they didn’t question why Harry hadn’t followed them. Harry honestly wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone.

When he was done brushing his teeth Harry headed up the stairs into the dormitories. The boys dorm was a long room with a ceiling similarly spelled to the common room. The walls were birch, and the room held 5 ebony beds with pale gold canopies. The beds were all along one wall in the rectangular room, leaving a sort of empty-looking wide hallway space on the other the half of the room. A row of windows stood on the wall opposite the beds. Trunks stood at the ends of each bed, and there were bedside tables in between, one for each person. Harry found the only empty bed, second from the end near the bathroom, in between a bed with a bright orange Chudley Cannons fleece blanket and a bed with a dark green silk comforter. _Ron and… Draco Malfoy?_ Harry certainly hadn’t expected to have to reside so close to his childhood nemesis, but he decided he had better get over the feud if he had to live with him for the next year.

Harry thought for a moment, and it occurred to him that, as no one wanted to be anywhere near Malfoy, his earlier absence had meant he couldn’t protest the arrangement. Putting it out of his mind, he headed over to his trunk (helpfully expanded by Hermione) and pulled out his pajamas to get ready for bed before everyone else got back and started crowding the room.

After getting dressed, he began to sort out his more prized possessions. The Marauder’s Map was tucked in the drawer of his bedside table, along with the shard of glass from the mirror Sirius had given him. His invisibility cloak was hidden under the rest of his robes, and he had just started making his bed when Dean Thomas entered the room. The rest of the 8th year boys began to trickle in after him.

“Hey Harry.” Dean nodded in Harry’s direction as he spoke.

Dean walked over to his own bed, two down from Harry’s, and climbed into bed. Everyone started doing the same, except Harry, that is. He wasn’t remotely tired.

Harry instead decided to leaf through a few of his schoolbooks. He drew the curtains on his bed as not to disturb anyone with the light, and flicked his wand. A dim light just bright enough to read by illuminated the small space.

He took out _The Art and History of Invisibility_ for his transfiguration class. Harry didn’t know who would be teaching transfiguration this year. Professor McGonagall hadn’t mentioned any new teachers other than Professor Smith, so perhaps she herself would still be teaching the class. Harry hoped she would; despite her strictness, she had always been one of Harry’s favorite teachers.

Harry put the book away about a half an hour later; he didn’t want to be _too_ tired the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bathroom was based off of/inspired by the Slytherin bathroom here: http://silvisnilade.tumblr.com/post/134029369111/parseltonquinq-fandomsgonecrazy


	3. The First Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, after more than a month, we finally sat down at our respective computers and finished the chapter!  
>  _We're really sorry._  
>  Especially Evie.  
> Because this was mostly her (and her muse's obsession with Dan and Phil's) fault.

Harry woke up early the next morning to a quiet debate between Ron and Dean on quidditch.

“The Chudley Cannons destroyed the Fitchburg Finches in the last championship game.”

“And the Finches have beat the Cannons in almost every game previous.”

Harry sat up and reached for his glasses on his bedside table. 

“Sorry Harry,” Ron whispered, looking away from Dean for a minute before delving back into their intense quidditch conversation.

Harry rubbed his eyes from under his glasses, thinking of what they would be doing that day. Professor Mcgonagall had said that they would be in more control of their classes, unlike in previous years when their classes had been chosen for them, but Harry wasn’t quite sure what that meant.

He dressed quickly, pulling his robes hastily over his head, then headed down to the common room, hoping that Hermione was awake.

He walked clumsily down the cold dormitory steps, relieved when he finally made it to the door. He still wasn’t quite awake.

Harry was not surprised to find Hermione curled up in a large armchair, feet tucked under her legs, with her nose in a big book. He recognised it as _The Art and History of Invisibility_ , the book he had been reading the night before. It had been surprisingly interesting to him, and if something was interesting to him, it was probably ten times more interesting to Hermione, who could be captivated by Professor Binns’ lessons.

“Oh, hello, Harry,” Hermione greeted him, not looking up from her book. “I didn’t expect you to be up so early.” She finished her page and marked it, closing the book.

“Yeah, Ron woke me,” Harry said, yawning and rubbing his eyes again.

“Oh, so have you decided on the classes you want to take yet?” 

“I don’t know the options,” he said, sitting down in the armchair across from her.

“I think Professor Mcgonagall is going to give us the option sheets today. I think it will be cool to have some choice in what we want to learn.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, looking at the ground. He was still groggy; he had stayed up later than he had planned to thinking about the next day. He didn’t know why he was so worried. Hogwarts was like a home to him, but after last year’s events, there were some places he couldn’t stand to even look at.

Their conversation dropped off there; Hermione went back to her book, looking up occasionally at Harry.

After a half-hour or so the rest of the students came down from their dormitories, and the group headed downstairs for breakfast, not even noticing that one of their number was missing.

Ron met Harry and Hermione downstairs, right outside the doors of the Great Hall. 

“So are we supposed to sit at the Gryffindor table?” Ron asked as the group made its way through the door.

“I guess so,” Harry shrugged, “unless there’s some other table.” 

There was no other table, so the group sat in their usual seats at the Gryffindor table, joined by Ginny and Neville. 

They ate breakfast quietly. There was some small talk, but there was an awkwardness that no one could pinpoint the origin of. 

Neville told them that he’d gotten a new wand, the best he’d ever had. Hermione talked about her summer repairing Hogwarts, though she gave no details of the event. And Harry only replied with nods and vague, monosyllabic words.

Once breakfast was cleared, Professor Mcgonagall asked the eighth years to return to their common room. None of them had received schedules.

They all hurried up to their new common room and waited. Harry looked down at the Great Hall. Professor Mcgonagall was talking with Professor Smith. He was nodding as she spoke. When she was done he gave her a thumbs-up and followed her out of the Hall.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron sat together. Hermione was curled into a ball in Ron’s lap on a plush armchair. Harry was sitting in a chair across from them. They talked about what they wanted to do after Hogwarts.>

“I want to be an Auror,” Harry said. It was somewhat easy to ignore Hermione and Ron’s cuddling.

“So do I,” said Ron, “but my second choice is to be a professional quidditch player. What about you, ‘Mione?”

“Well,” Hermione began, “I think I want to continue with S. P. E. W., maybe work at the Ministry in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.”

They all talked on the subject for a few more minutes until Professor Mcgonagall burst in, followed by Professor Smith.

“Ah, I trust you all slept well,” Professor Mcgonagall said as the door swung closed behind her. “Now. Because we have never had an eighth year class at Hogwarts we are going to test out letting you choose your own classes. Most of the classes to choose from require for you to have scored an A or higher in your O. W. L.s, but some do not. I will be teaching all of the eighth year Transfiguration classes. Does everyone understand?” Everyone nodded. “If I call your name please come to the front. It means you have been elected by me to take part in an advanced transfiguration class taught by Professor Smith and myself.

“Hermione Granger.” Hermione went to the front and collected two slips of parchment. “Harry Potter.” Harry went up and took two sheets of parchment identical to Hermione’s. “Draco Malfoy.” Malfoy did the same. “That is all.”

“Those of you who have papers already can go to your dorms. I gave you two things: your schedule planner, with a list of the class options, and the information for the extra transfiguration class. The rest of you come up to get schedule planners when I call your name.”

Harry headed up to the dormitory and looked at the note, it read:

 _Dear Mr. Potter,_  
_You have been invited to participate in an after-school class dedicated to becoming a successful animagi._  
_You and the three others who were invited can meet outside of the Headmistress’s office at four o'clock on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. You may turn down this invitation if you wish._  
_Sincerely,_  
_Professor Mcgonagall and Professor Smith_  


After reading the note a few times over, he looked at the schedule planner. There were five blank periods, three in the morning, and two in the afternoon. There was one more in the afternoon that was already filled in, labeled Auror Prep: Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry flipped over the sheet and looked at the back where the rest of the class options were. The page read:

 _Per. 1_  
_Opt 1: Advanced Transfiguration (Requires Exceeds Expectations O. W. L.s)_  
_Opt 2: Advanced Astronomy (No requirements) ___

 _Per. 2_  
_Opt 1: Recent History of Magic: Analysis (Requires Acceptable O. W. L.s)_  
_Opt. 2: Divination: Dreams (No requirements)_

 _Per. 3_  
_Opt. 1: Arithmancy (No previous experience required) ___  
_Opt 2: Extended Charms (Requires Exceeding O. W. L.s)_  
_Opt 3: Defence Against the Dark Arts (Requires Outstanding O. W. L.s)_

 _Per. 4_  
_Opt. 1: Arithmancy (No previous experience required)_  
_Opt 2: Extended Charms (Requires Acceptable O. W. L.s)_

 _Per. 5_  
_Opt. 1: Advanced Potions (Requires Acceptable O. W. L.s)_  
_Opt 2: Herbology: Ecosystems (No requirements)_  
_Opt. 3: Muggle Studies (No requirements)_

Harry looked over the list a few times and grabbed his quill, thinking about what he would need to become an Auror. 

He circled:  
_Per. 1: Advanced Transfiguration_

But stopped at period two. He had gotten extremely bad grades in History of Magic, but wanted nothing to do with Divination. He skipped it and decided to bring it up with Professor McGonagall later.

_Per. 3: Defence Against the Dark Arts._

There was no harm in taking _two_ Defence classes.

For period four he decided on Charms, and for period five he chose Potions, remembering that the career pamphlet said you needed to have good marks in potions to become an auror.

He looked down at his almost finished schedule, satisfied. But what to do about period two?

Harry walked out of the dormitory, carrying his schedule.

Professor Mcgonagall and Professor Smith were still there, luckily.

“Professor Mcgonagall,” Harry said, interrupting their conversation.

“Yes Mr. Potter?” Professor Mcgonagall said, turning to face him.

“Well, I was wondering, for period two, the only options are History of Magic and Divination. The History of Magic class requires an A in O. W. L.s, which I don’t have, and I _really_ don’t want to take Divination again, which I’m sure you understand. Is there another class I could take?”

Professor Mcgonagall hummed thoughtfully before saying “I think there’s another class you could take, or you could have a free period. Will you be taking my extra class?”

Harry nodded.

“Well then, you may have a free period. So may Miss Granger. Please let her know.”

Harry nodded again. 

A few seconds later, none other than Hermione herself burst out of the girls’ door.

“Professor, would it be possible for me to take Arithmancy _and_ Ancient Runes?” She asked, after making her way to where the other three stood.

“I had given that some thought already. I think it is perfectly logical to take two classes, I think it would be best if you took them on alternating days, I’ll be sure to tell the professors that you will only be joining class half of the time. I have also just told Mr. Potter that you and him may have a free second period, since both of you will be taking my extra class.”

“Oh good!” Hermione said. “Thank you, Professor!” She started to walk back to the dorms.

“Miss Granger, wait,” Professor Mcgonagall called, Hermione turned around. “You and Harry may as well wait here, I’m waiting for everyone to come down before I make an announcement and send you all to your first class.”

Hermione and Harry walked over to one of the many clusters of comfy armchairs in the room and sat down.

“So what did you pick?” Harry asked, glancing down at her schedule.

“First I’ve got Advanced Transfiguration, you?”

“Same,” replied Harry

“Second I’ve got free, third I’ve got Arithmancy and Ancient Runes.”

“I’ve got Charms,” Harry said. Hermione nodded her head in acknowledgment.

“Fourth I’ve got Defence.”

“Same.”

“Fifth I’ve got Potions.”

“Same.” 

“And sixth I've got Charms.”

“They picked an Auror Prep class for me. I didn’t even know Auror Prep classes existed.”

Hermione shrugged. “Maybe they didn’t until this year.” 

They heard the dormitory doors open as a few more students finished with their schedules. Ron walked over to them and squeezed into the chair that Hermione was already sitting in. 

“So what was that note about?” Ron asked Harry.

“Oh, it was nothing,” Harry replied, glad he’s left the note upside down on his bedside table. 

“It was just about taking an extra Transfiguration class after school a few days a week,” Hermione said, resting her head on Ron’s shoulder. Ron turned and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Alright. Harry, do you know when quidditch tryouts are? You’ll still be the seeker right?”

“Oh right,” Harry said. He had completely forgotten that he was the Gryffindor captain still. “I’ll set a date at some point.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose under his glasses, lifting them up just barely.

After a few more minutes the rest of the eighth years had come downstairs. Professor Mcgonagall ushered them all over so they could hear her. 

“I’m sure all of you know that this is our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor John Smith, or just Professor Smith.” Professor Smith raised his hand, grinning, as if to say: ‘that’s me!’ “What you don’t know is that he will be living with the eighth years this year to supervise you.” There was a collective groan. Everyone knew what that meant. It meant no fun. Ever.

“Aww come on. I’m not _that_ bad.” Professor Smith said, still smiling. His teeth were impossibly white, almost shining. 

“Now, everyone should be getting off to their first class. The bell will ring as usual so you will only have about half of the usual class time.”

Harry looked down at his schedule, forgetting his first class already. 

“Everyone in my first period class just follow me,” said Professor Mcgonagall, and she whooshed out of the room, closely followed by Harry, Hermione, Malfoy and Padma Patil.

They followed her down several staircases, and it soon became clear that they weren’t going to the normal transfiguration classroom.

They went down to the second floor, where classes weren’t usually kept, and entered a small room.

The room smelled of gingerbread, coffee, and pumpkin, and was possibly the most cozy place Harry had ever set foot in. The brick fireplace on the far wall made the room warm, and the walls were covered in house tapestries. There were two couches and a desk; that was all there was in the room.

It easily accommodated all of them. Harry and Hermione sat on one couch, Padma and Malfoy on the other. Padma sat as close to the edge and as far away from Malfoy as she could be.

“Now,” said Professor Mcgonagall, “who here knows the Vanishing Spell?”

Hermione’s hand was in the air as soon as Professor Mcgonagall had finished speaking.

“Miss Granger, could you please vanish this quill?” Professor Mcgonagall asked, producing a quill from inside her robes. 

Hermione nodded and took out her wand.

“Evanesco,” she said, and with a flick of her wand, the quill was nothing.

“Good job. Who else can perform the Vanishing Spell?” No one raised their hand. “Alright, now I know what we’re going to learn today.”

She gave each of them a leaf, which she took off of a flower from the small vase on the desk, and they began practicing. Harry was able to make the leaf transparent on his third try, and by his fourth it was completely gone.

“That was good,” Professor Mcgonagall praised, smiling at Hermione in particular. “Now we’re going to review some spells that you _should_ already know.” Professor Mcgonagall paired them up, putting Harry with Padma and Hermione with Malfoy.

Harry shot Hermione a look of sympathy and followed Padma to where she wanted to practice. They started by turning matches into needles, one of the first things they had ever learned in transfiguration.

Harry and Padma both transformed their matches into needles and back again quickly, and Professor Mcgonagall supplied each of them with a muggle pen for them to turn into a quill.

That was how the rest of the period went; doing basic exercises that encompassed each unit they had covered over the years.

Professor Mcgonagall gave them one thing after another to transform until the bell finally rang.

Hermione and Harry left the class side by side. Hermione wanted to do some research in the library during their free period, so Harry went with her. They made small talk until they reached the tall spruce doors, which looked slightly different than they had in previous years.

“Wait until you see this.” Hermione said, and she lead the way into the library.

Ladders and steep stairs and bridges led from one shelf to another and across aisles. Small walkways had been built every 3 shelves up, starting at the 6th shelf up, alternating from left side to right side so there was a 6-shelf space between each walkway to fit even the tallest 7th year. Round platforms at the edges of the shelves gave place to sit and check a book, or just read, if you wished, and the bridges leading across aisles came from here. Small platforms just big enough to stand on formed steps connecting the alternating levels of walkways, and ladders at the ends of aisles let you climb as far up as you needed for a specific book. Hermione gestured for him to climb, and he stepped onto the ladder.

Climbing to the tops of the shelves, he found a stained glass roof in warm browns, oranges, and yellows, and on top of the shelves, cushy golden-brown chairs and spruce tables for reading and studying at, with little bridges connecting the shelves. Hermione stepped onto the bridge and explained everything had charms to keep you from losing your balance or falling off.

“Did you help renovate the library?” Harry asked, almost sure that some of this was Hermione’s handiwork.

“Yeah, follow me.” She led him across several bookshelves, and they soon reached an area with a small sign that read FICTION SECTION. Harry looked down.

The fiction section differed from the rest of the library in design in a few ways. For one, the platforms where one could read now had pillows, and the steps had thick carpeting, so one could just sit and read wherever. For another, there were actual chairs down in between the shelves, and so there was wider spacing. Finally, there were fireplaces staggered along the shelves, and he assumed there was some sort of way to get the smoke directly outside, because the fireplaces had no stovepipes coming out the tops of the shelves.

“Welcome,” said Hermione, “to the fiction section.”

Harry grinned. “This is amazing,” he said, taking another look around the room. “What did you want to look up?”

“Right, I wanted to look up the Triwizard Tournament to see if there was any pattern in the challenges, so that in case one of us gets picked we have a small chance at being ready.” 

Harry was impressed. He hadn’t thought about the Tournament much, although he hadn’t had much time to anyway.

“Will you be entering this year?” Hermione asked, and then she looked away. “I’m sorry, of course you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I think I might.” Hermione said. They had walked out of the fiction section and she was looking through history books.

“You can if you want, Hermione, but I’ll warn you, it’s not too fun,” Harry whispered; he had seen Madame Pince in the corner of his eye. “Are you sure there’s nothing in _Hogwarts: A History_?”

“No, I’ve checked,” Hermione said. “Besides, I’ve read it a million times.”

Harry laughed; that was all too true.

***

When lunch rolled around they had hardly found anything. It seemed that every book with any mention of the Triwizard Tournament had been removed from the library.

“We can look after classes are over for the day, okay?” 

“No, we have the Animagi class.” Hermione sighed. “It’s fine, Harry, I can search on my own time.” She gave a small smile and walked into the Great Hall, Harry followed closely behind.

They met Ron after already having been eating in silence for at least five minutes.

“Where have you been?” Hermione asked. Ron sat down and gave her a peck on the lips.

“I had Divination,” Ron whined. “Trelawney’s got us looking in crystal balls again.” 

Hermione snorted. 

Harry looked down at his hands.

“It’s not funny.” Ron glared at her, but the look faded into a small smile.

“I’ve got to go,” Harry said. A sudden wave of annoyance had washed over him and he could feel stress rising in his stomach. He needed to get out of there. 

“Oh, okay. Wait, are you okay?” Hermione looked at him suspiciously as he stood up.

“I’m fine, just need a little time alone.”

Hermione nodded.

He exited the Great Hall and headed towards the new dormitory. He loosened his tie on the staircase up.

_Deep breath._

“Okay,” he whispered.“I’m okay.”

He had been having panic attacks ever since the battle, at the most random of times. He had found that all he needed to calm down was space away from everything when they happened.

He arrived at the common room.

_Cold water. Cold water will help._

He rushed into the bathroom and ran the tap, hastily splashing the water onto his face. He ignored his reflection, closing his eyes for a short moment of peace. 

Harry knew all he had to do was get through the day.

_Okay. I’m okay._

He opened his eyes and glanced at the mirror.

_I’m okay._

He nodded at his reflection. He was okay.

He walked out of the bathroom a few minutes later, scanning the common room for other students before rushing towards the door for his next class.

He had charms, luckily enough, and Professor Flitwick set them right up to start working on reveiw. He gave them each the chance to make a desk levitate, and the class went by quickly.

***

When Harry opened the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom he wasn’t sure what to expect. However, he certainly didn’t expect for Professor Smith to be sitting cross legged on his desk humming the _Star Wars_ theme song.

“Ah, you must be Mr. Potter!” Professor Smith exclaimed, hopping off his desk. “We haven’t met properly yet, have we?”

“Er, no, sir, I don’t think so.”

“Well, I’ve heard great things.” Harry smiled rather awkwardly and went back to his desk to sort through some papers.

Harry found himself sitting in the desk in the back corner of the classroom, separated from Hermione, when the period started. 

Professor Smith clapped to get everyone’s attention. 

“Alright,” he began, smirking. “I understand that you lot have had some pretty inadequate teachers to say the least, but this year I promise you will learn everything you need to know about the Dark Arts and self defense. Professor McGonagall and I have been working on a new curriculum for all students, but especially you eighth years, who have come not only to finish their seventh year NEWTs, but also just to continue your magical studies before going out into the world.

“The way I want to start this class is just by answering any and all questions you might have about Defense Against the Dark Arts that haven’t been answered by your other teachers.”

A few hands went up in the air.

“Um, you, in the front.” He pointed at Hermione, who was sitting eagerly at the edge of her seat, as per usual.

As Hermione went into some detailed question about horcruxes and how they work, Harry looked around at the few people in the classroom.

There were only a handful of people taking this class. Harry wasn’t surprised; not many people had come back in the first place.

In front of him was Pansy Parkinson; in the front row sat Hermione, Dean, and August; and in the back row, sitting in the corner opposite him, sat Draco Malfoy.

Harry hadn’t properly looked at Malfoy since sixth year, back when he had been constantly suspicious of his every move. Now he studied him closely, noting his sunken eyes, hollow cheekbones, and pale pasty face. He looked exhausted and half-starved. Harry recalled how he had just stared at his plate, not eating, the night before. He tried to remember if Malfoy had eaten that morning. He couldn’t seem to recall seeing Malfoy eat a meal since the start of term, but he must have.

Harry turned his attention away from Malfoy, looking instead at Professor Smith, who was just finishing answering Hermione's question.

“...Essentially, a horcrux can be created by anyone, no matter their skill in wizardry, so long as they can stomach the process.” He was talking very animatedly, pacing about the room and through the aisles, and now he grabbed a piece of chalk and wrote:  
_Things to Learn_  
at the top of the chalkboard.

“Other questions? Any questions? Things you wish you knew?”

“What do you mean by ‘stomach the process’? What’ s the process?” asked August.

“Let’s just say it involves murder- and that's the least horrifying part of the process. In order to make a horcrux, you must split your soul, as I mentioned before, and in order to split your soul, you must kill an innocent, in cold blood, with no regret. The other parts of the process... I would rather not think about, let alone discuss, even in a learning environment.” Professor Smith looked brooding for a moment before he brightened again.

“Now, any other things you want or need to know about the Dark Arts and self-defense?”

Harry raised his hand.

“Yes, Harry?”

“Do the effects of dementors last after getting away from them after being around them for a while? And do they have more extreme effects on younger or traumatized people?”

“Good questions Harry! From my limited knowledge of dementors I can tell you that their effects are not permanent, but can last for quite some time after people encounter them. It does depend on the person, some are more sensitive than others, and dementors can have lasting effects on those who suffer from PTSD. Does everyone know what PTSD is?”

Hermione was the only one in the room who didn't shake her head.

“PTSD stands for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is something I suspect most of you have, considering you were thrown into a war with hardly any warning. It occurs when someone has been through a traumatic situation, such as a war, assault, acts of terrorism, or some other situation similar. PTSD is caused by violence or the threat of violence to yourself or someone you care deeply about, for example a family member, a best friend, or a partner. It can also be caused by someone you are responsible for being injured or killed, regardless of whether you cared about them personally or whether it was your fault, so long as you _perceive_ it as yours. In short, PTSD caused anxiety and panic attacks due to a sense of danger in safe situations triggered by sounds, images, touches, scents, anything that could be linked to the traumatic experience. This danger feels very real when experiencing it, but usually there is no real threat. Does that make some sense to everyone?”

Everyone nodded.

“People have various coping mechanisms to help with PTSD, but the best thing to do is talk about it, both in groups and one-on-one with a licensed psychologist, which I just so happen to be.

“Now, back to dementors!

“Where was I?” He looked expectantly around the room.

Hermione raised her hand. “You were telling us about sensitivity?”

“Right! Some people are just naturally more sensitive, and PTSD can make one more susceptible, but it’s not age so much as experience that determines how much they affect you. One can get... Almost _used_ to them. It won’t negate their presence, not even a little, but if you were previously prone to fainting spells, you’ll be able to stay awake long enough to cast a patronus, if you’re lucky. And _that_ is something I should teach you.” He turned to the board to write _Dementors and Dealing With Them_ , then looked over his shoulder. “-if you haven’t learned it already. Does anyone know the patronus spell?”

Hermione and Harry raised their hands, but the rest of the class stayed silent. Harry noticed that not many people from Dumbledore’s Army had opted to participate in Defense Against the Dark arts, he hoped it was because they had learned all they needed to know, but assumed that they were either afraid, or had gotten an Outstanding in their O.W.L.s and figured that was enough.

“Now, you two. What’s different about you two? Why do you two know the patronus?”

Harry laughed a little. “Well, Hermione over here convinced me to start a little club to teach people how to defend themselves back when the Ministry sent in that useless toad who refused to teach us Defense Against the Dark Arts because ‘Voldemort wasn’t back’, never mind that Voldemort isn’t the only thing in the world that could ever hurt us. If he was, this class would be completely unnecessary.”

The bell rang and Harry slid out of his seat, pulling his already heavy bookbag onto his shoulder.

When Harry made it outside the classroom he waited for a few seconds, when Hermione came out he pulled her aside to wait too. When Malfoy finally exited the classroom, he gestured for Hermione to wait and went after him. “Malfoy! Malfoy, wait! Can I talk to you?”

Malfoy turned to him, glowering. “What, Potter?”

Harry gestured into an empty classroom. “I just need to talk to you.”

“What could you possibly want to talk to me about?” 

“Just- please, Malfoy.” Malfoy sighed, but followed Harry into the classroom.

"Look Malfoy.” Harry lowered his voice. “I know that you don't like me, and I certainly have very few reasons to like you, but you look like shit. What’s going on?”

“As if you care Potter. For your information, I’m perfectly fine.” Malfoy turned his back on Harry began to walk out of the classroom. He had only taken a step when he collapsed, falling to his knees and slumping over.

Harry ran over. _What just happened?_

“Malfoy?” He shook the other boy’s shoulders. “Malfoy can you hear me? HERMIONE!” he called. He heard footsteps in the hall and Hermione burst through the door within seconds.

“Oh my god.” She kneeled down immediately and checked his pulse. “He’s alive. Help me pull him up, we have to him get to the hospital wing, quickly.”

Harry grabbed him under his shoulders, while Hermione got his legs, and they rushed him up the stairs. Class had already started, so there was no one in the halls to witness it. They soon got to the hospital wing, and Hermione set down his legs, banging on the door frantically.

Madame Pomfrey ran over at once. “What happened?”

“He just collapsed,” Harry said, taking a deep breath.

She hummed thoughtfully, furrowing her brow as she began bustling around, checking his pulse and breathing. “You two get to class, he’s fine while he’s with me.”

They left after that, no questions asked. 

They had learned over the years not to question Madam Pomfrey’s authority.

The rest of the day went by quite uneventfully; Potions was just review, and in Auror Prep, Professor Smith just gave an overly-dramatic and “inspirational” speech about following your dreams and how “this class will prepare you for becoming Aurors by teaching you many spells for defending yourself, emergency field medical, and capturing lawbreakers.” Dinner was mostly quiet, and afterwards he returned to his dorm and worked on homework until 9, which he deemed early enough to go to bed. However, when he lay down, closing the curtains around him, he simply lay awake, thinking about Malfoy, hoping he was okay, until long after the only sound in the room was the deep breathing of the other boys and Ron’s snoring. His last thought before he fell asleep was that this day had felt like it had dragged on for a month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It should be noted that everything I said regarding PTSD came from the summary on the Wikipedia page on PTSD.


	4. Get Well Soon, Twat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Draco fainting.

Harry was the first to wake up the next morning, brushing his teeth and combing his hair quickly, wanting some alone time in the common room before everyone woke up.

He slipped down the stairs quietly, and tiptoed over to the couch closest to the door.

“Good morning Harry.” Harry jumped at the voice. Professor Smith sat on the couch at the back of the room reading a book that Harry could just make out the title of. It was called A Brief History of Time, by someone called Steven Hawking. Harry thought he had heard the name, but he couldn’t think of where.

“Good morning. What are you doing here?” Harry asked, making his way over to the cluster of plush couches and armchairs where Professor Smith was sitting.

“Professor McGonagall and I agreed that the eighth years should have someone to watch them and make sure they don’t get into too much trouble.” He smiled and closed his book.

“Oh.” Harry sat down across from his new Professor. “What are you reading?” 

“The best book in the world.” He grinned and handed Harry the book. “It’s a muggle book, very interesting. Most wizards think that all of history was based on wizardry, they couldn’t be more wrong .” Harry read the back cover and handed the book back.

“It sounds interesting.”

“Stephen Hawking is a brilliant man. He’s nearly completely paralyzed; he had to write that one letter at a time, picking them out at a rate of about one word per minute. Very difficult.”

Harry nodded, “Can I borrow it from you when you’re finished reading it?”

Professor Smith laughed. “I’ve read it before. You can borrow it now.”

Harry took the book, flipping through a few of the pages.”Thank you so much.” 

“No problem.”

Harry heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Dean and Seamus coming down the stairs, Seamus rubbing his eyes.

“What time is it?” Dean asked Harry. He shrugged and looked over at Professor Smith, who pulled up his sleeve and looked at his watch. “8:00.”

“Thanks.” Dean yawned as he spoke, stretching his arms up. He and Seamus headed out the door, and Harry, after a moment of deliberation, followed, tucking the book into his bag.

***

Malfoy wasn’t at breakfast, and Harry spent the entire morning worrying about him, to the point that Hermione asked him if he was alright more than once. He made his way to the library during second period and hid away in the fiction section, trying to read A Brief History of Time to take his mind off Malfoy. It wasn’t a very long book, but he only got through one chapter in the hour and a half he was there, instead staring off into space, worrying. He arrived at the Great Hall before the food was even on the tables. Malfoy wasn’t at lunch, either, and Harry worried he wouldn’t be better in time for their first Animagus class.

He finally gave in, finishing lunch early and pulling himself up the stairs to the hospital wing. He at least had to check to make sure Malfoy was alive. They weren’t friends, but that didn’t mean Harry wanted him to die.

He knocked on the door, waiting a second before hearing Madam Pomfrey making her way over to let him in.

“You can only stay for five minutes; he’s asleep and you have to get to class.”

Harry nodded, readjusting his grip on his bookbag and stepping softly into the room, careful to make almost no noise.

When he reached Draco’s bed he pulled out a small piece of parchment and his muggle fountain pen (he had brought one on Hermione’s recommendation) and quickly scrawled the first thing he could think of.

_Get well soon, twat. -Harry_

***

Harry went through the rest of the day gradually collecting more homework, both for himself and Malfoy. It was only the second day and the teachers were already torturing them. Hermione had officially announced to him and Ron that she was going to sign up for her name to be put in the Goblet of Fire

.

“Hermione, you know how dangerous the tournament is,” Ron had said when she told him. She had laughed him off.

“I can take care of myself, thank you very much, Ron,” she had giggled. Harry wasn’t sure if they were flirting or not, but had decided to stay out of the conversation anyways, making only an occasional noise to let them know he was listening.

In DADA, Harry demonstrated his Patronus for the class.

In potions he was already falling behind without the help of Snape’s old textbook, and he was incredibly tired after only two days of school.

In Auror Prep, they were working on stasis spells for injuries, but he made no progress, worried as he was about Malfoy.

“Are you okay, Harry?”

“I’m so tired.”

“We still have the Animagus class; do you think you’ll make it?”

“Yeah. I’ll need some food, though.”

She nodded. “How’s Draco?”

Harry began to lead the way into the Hall as he spoke. “I’m not sure, he was asleep when I checked on him.”

They found Ron sitting by the door with Dean and Seamus. Hermione sat down next to him, motioning for Harry to sit on her other side rather than sitting across the table from them.

“Just sit down.”

“Fine.”

Harry helped himself to spaghetti and garlic bread. 

He glanced across the room at the Slytherin table when Hermione wasn’t looking at him and was relieved to see Malfoy sitting with a full plate in front of him and a goblet in his right hand.

_Good,_ he thought, _I don’t have to worry about him anymore._

But he found himself worrying even more.

_What if he doesn’t stay okay?_

Harry took a sip of his pumpkin juice and dragged his gaze away from Malfoy, who still looked too thin; too pale.

“Hermione, will you do some studying with me after Professor McGonagall and Professor Smith’s class?”

“Er...sure? Are you alright? You’ve been acting really strange recently.”

“I know. Listen, I have to get back to the dorm and take a nap before we have to go. Will you get Ron to wake me when we have to go?”

“Yeah, sure, just get some sleep.”

***

Harry made his way up to his four poster and collapsed, letting his muscles completely relax. He was asleep nearly immediately, and stayed in dreamless bliss for the first time in a long, long time. 

When Ron shook him awake at he felt as though he had only slept for a few seconds, though a glance at the clock told him it had been an hour.

“Thanks, Ron.” He attempted smile.

“No problem mate.”

Harry made his way down to the common room where Hermione was waiting for him.

“Are you excited Harry?” He rubbed his eyes, yawned, and nodded. He certainly was excited; he wasn’t sure, however, if he had enough energy to do anything. All he wanted to do was curl up on his bed and go back to sleep.

“Don’t worry, we won’t even be doing magic this time; just meditating to find our Animagus form. Although you might fall asleep...”

Harry nodded, yawning, and crossed his arms. He had changed into a t-shirt and jeans and felt oddly uncomfortable without the long robes billowing around his leg.

They began their walk down the stairs and into the hall. 

“Harry?” 

“Yeah?”

“I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come and stay with me and my parents this year for Christmas. There are some things I think you really missed out on living with the Dursley’s.”

“Er...What do you mean?”

“Muggle movies. Muggle books. Muggle music. You were raised muggle, technically, and as such, you need a muggleborn identity.”

“Uh. Why?”

_“It’s your heritage, Harry_. As you haven’t got a wizarding identity, not raised wizarding, you need a muggle identity. You need to be able to make Doctor Who references at stuck-up purebloods. Plus, muggle media is really cool and interesting and fun.”

“I can’t have missed out on much…What even _is_ Doctor Who?” 

Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes to the ceiling as if to say _What am I going to do with this boy?_ “Harry, you remember the first time you came into the wizarding world? And how much you didn’t know?”

“Uh... Yes?”

_“Your muggle culture knowledge is almost that bad.”_

“OK, OK! I would love to stay with you over Christmas, Hermione. What about Ron?”

“I’ve talked to him about it and he’s going to be spending Christmas at the Weasley’s with the rest of his family, Molly says that if you weren’t coming with me she would make you stay with her too.”

“I’m not that deprived. I’ve overheard most of the Star Wars movies.” Harry said pointedly.

_“Harry. That doesn’t count.”_

Harry chuckled at her frustration. “Okay, okay.”

They made it to the spiral staircase that led up to the headmistress’s office and found a small group of other students waiting. There were two Hufflepuffs and a handful of Ravenclaws and Slytherins, all of whom were seventh years, who Harry didn’t recognise, but he saw Ginny and Luna standing together having a quiet discussion, so he and Hermione joined them where they were leaning against the wall. 

“Oh, hello, Harry,” Ginny greeted with a smile. They had broken up officially right after the war. Neither of them had any hard feelings about it (that Harry knew of at least), and after the customary post-breakup waiting period of awkwardness, they had gone back to being good friends.

“Hey Ginny. How have you been? I haven’t seen you since we left the Burrow.”

“I’m pretty good. I’ve been hanging out with Luna a lot, she’s a bit broken up about Neville and her breakup.”

“They were together?”

Ginny laughed, “You didn’t know?”

“Er...No?”

“Well, they were, and now they’re not.”

“I-” Harry’s response was interrupted by the sound of Professor McGonagall’s voice.

“Welcome everyone! I am so excited for this class to begin, but first we need to set the ground rules. Rule number one, absolutely no telling precisely what this class’s purpose is to anyone who is not taking it. Rule number two - Welcome Mister Malfoy - I will not tolerate…”

Harry looked across the hall to see that Malfoy had just entered, carrying a black bag and wearing his school robes.

Was it just Harry’s imagination, or did Malfoy’s robes look less tailored? Tailored, but perhaps not for Malfoy in specific. 

Harry shrugged and turned back to Professor McGonagall.

“Irrational behaviour!” Was all he heard before Professor Smith emerged from the door to the headmaster’s office. He leaned over McGonagall’s shoulder to whisper something in her ear, and then, with a quick wave at the students, he was gone again.

“Professor Smith has notified me that the potion is ready. Will you all please follow me? Single file. That’s right.” She ushered the students into the large office, ignoring the comments of the portraits on the wall. 

“Alright. The way this potion works is, essentially very simple. You drink it, close your eyes, and the image of the animal you are to become will appear before your eyes.”


	5. Friends?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry doesn't regret saving Malfoy.

Harry woke the morning after his first Animagi class with a pounding headache. He felt hungover, dizzy and nauseous and he could hardly remember any of the class. 

His animagus form was a...what was it?

It was a wolf.

The potion had obviously had some nasty side effects.

Harry rubbed his eyes, his eyelids were heavier than they had ever been. He glanced over his shoulder at Ron who was still asleep, and then looked at Malfoy, also still asleep. 

_What time is it?_ He sat up and put his glasses on, rubbing his eyes again and checking his watch.

5:59AM

_Fantastic._

There was no chance of him falling back asleep now, so he headed down to the boys bathroom. He brushed his teeth, attempted to comb through his messy, almost shoulder length hair, and washed his face. When he was done in the bathroom, only fifteen minutes had passed and no one was in the common room yet.

Harry decided it would be a nice time for a walk, so he tiptoed up to the common room. Once he was dressed in some simple black jeans and a t-shirt (Mrs. Weasley had insisted on taking him shopping for muggle clothes over the summer) he pulled on his shoes and headed out across the grounds.

He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he found himself heading towards Hagrid’s hut.

Hagrid, as it happened, was wide awake and was working in his garden.

“‘Hello Harry.” Hagrid greeted him.

Harry smiled. “Hi Hagrid. What are you doing up so early?”

“Gotta plant the pum’kins, jus’ got the plants from Professor Sprout.” Hagrid dusted the dirt off his hand and pulled Harry into a (still quite dusty) hug.

“How was your summer?” Harry asked.

Hagrid grinned. “It was pretty good. I got me wand back, Kingsley Shacklebolt made sure of tha’” 

Harry grinned too and rubbed his eyes, another headache was setting in.

“You okay Harry?”

“I’m fine, just tired.”

They talked a bit more, senseless stuff, school schedules and the new library.

The sun was just peeking over the tops of the trees in the Forbidden Forest when Harry finally started to make his way up towards the castle. 

***

Most of Harry’s day went by quickly and without consequence. He received a short letter from Andromeda, telling him all about baby Teddy and updating him on what was going on.

_Dear Harry,_

_I’ve been doing well with Teddy, he really is a sweet little boy. He reminds me of Nymphadora at his age._

_I do hope you will consider taking Teddy to live with you once you’re done with school and are settled with a stable job, he’s wonderful, but you must know of my dwindling health. I am in no position to take care of a child in the long term._

_I’ve been staying with Narcissa. I mustn’t say much, but she lost the Manor and most of her fortune as well as her husband. She’s been incredibly strong through all of this, I would like for Teddy, when he’s older, think of her as an aunt. I can’t say much more._

_Sincerely, A. Tonks_

Harry folded the letter and put it in his bedside drawer. 

Malfoy was at lunch, he was eating, too. Harry hoped that meant he was okay, no matter how much he had hated Malfoy in the past, over the summer he had realised something: _I don’t regret saving Malfoy._

He honestly didn’t. 

Maybe it was because he realized Malfoy hadn’t had a choice in most of what he had done, maybe because he had realized that Dumbledore would have forgiven Malfoy. Maybe it was just because Harry needed a blank slate. But there was one thing for sure, he wanted Malfoy to _at least_ stay alive.

So, at the end of potions he pulled Malfoy aside as he came out the door.

“We need to talk Malfoy.”

Malfoy looked _exceptionally_ confused. 

“What, Potter?” 

Harry took a deep breath. “Okay listen: I know we’ve never really been friends, and we were on opposite sides of the war, but I understand that you didn’t choose to do what you did and I think we both understand what each other is going through and maybe we could at least _try_ to hang out and act like civilized people.”

“What makes you think I want to “ _hang out_ ” with you, Potter?” 

“Well I mean you haven’t _really_ got anyone else to hang out with.”

Malfoy looked at Harry suspiciously, squinting his eyes as if to somehow see Harry clearer.

“Look, Malfoy, we don’t have to be best friends, I’m just offering...I don’t know. Acquaintanceship?” 

Malfoy rubbed his eyes, “Fine.” He yawned. “We can study sometime.”

“Fine.”

“But.” Malfoy said. “We are not friends.”

Harry let out a small chuckle. “Friends? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Silvis would like it to be known that they are the beta and the architect, and that all the plot and most of the writing (beta means that at least a few words are mine, architect means blocks of descriptive text about bathrooms are mine) were written by Evie.
> 
> (Doctor Who cameos are present.)


End file.
